


I'm Just A Silhouette

by Amberly



Category: Gundam Wing, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Crossover, M/M, Vague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2351069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberly/pseuds/Amberly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heero Yuy and Steve Rogers have a heart to heart late one night, standing on the balcony of Avenger’s Tower. This is a crossover!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Just A Silhouette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sortofapenny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sortofapenny/gifts).



> SO. I’ve been threatening thunderboltsortofapenny with this fic for a while now, and I finally got it out. It’s not perfect, and it’s not beta’d, but it’s done, and it’s 890 words, and I don’t want to touch it anymore for fear of breaking it it.

“You can’t keep him,” the soft voice startled Steve, drawing him out of his reverie. He hadn’t even heard him approach. These kids were good, better trained than he’d ever been. Painfully young, and Steve had to remind himself that this one, half-Japanese with eyes like water, this one had never been young. This one was Heero, and Steve’s brow furrowed at the comment.

“Can’t keep who?”

“The Soldier. Bucky,” Heero rested his hands on the railing, looking out over the city sprawled below them. He didn’t look like a trained killer. Didn’t look 16, either, but that wasn’t the point. There wasn’t one. Steve stiffened next to him, arms straight at his sides. He glared down at Heero, jaw set, mouth open to retort.

“You’ll hurt him,” it was dead. Steve’s mouth closed, taking in the white-knuckled grip. The careful blankness of Heero’s face. Caution bloomed in his chest, even as he put a hand on Heero’s shoulder. The boy flinched, pulling away, turning to stare intently into Steve’s face.

It was evening, the sky hazy violet. It reminded Steve of eyes, the other kid. There were five of them, stubborn and strong and much too young for the blood pooling in their calloused hands. Banner and Stark were trying to figure out where they’d come from, how they’d made it here, locked away with the Chinese boy. Wufei, and the blond. Quatre? Steve was trying to remember their names, but it was hard. They clung awkwardly to his tongue like too sticky caramels.

Steve wanted no part in a future that sent boys to war in giant metal robots. Wanted to find a way to fix it before it ever got that far, grant them carefree childhoods and a world of plenty. But Stark had muttered something about inevitability. About alternate timelines, and paradoxes, and Steve had stopped listening when the kid with eyes like the sunset shouted Bucky’s name, voice laced with gleeful disbelief. Duo. His name was Duo, and he watched Bucky like he was the Second Coming.

Maybe he was.

He hadn’t thought it was real until Bucky, until he recognized the arm. That made it too real, and Duo had endless questions, talked about comics, about learning to read and throw a knife at the same time. They were spread out now, Bucky and Duo tucked away in a corner, the braided boy chattering happily. The Winter Soldier looked amused and confused, his lips were curved in a gratified smile, just big enough for Steve to see. Natasha was--somewhere. With the last one, the silent one, who’d given Bucky a cool, appraising look earlier. Sizing him up, it had looked like, and Steve took a deep breath.

“Look, Hero--”

“Heero,” the boys’ lips quirked.

“Sorry,” Steve flushed. Set his lips in a firm line. “I appreciate your concern, but--”

“He’s trying, isn’t he. To be who you want,” Heero interrupted, and Steve went cold, like he was back on the ice. Like it was 1945 and Bucky had just fallen off a train in to snow and ice and death. “He’s trying to be the person you loved. And it’s killing him, because he can’t be that person anymore. People can’t go back.”

“I--”

“He loves you. He loves you, and he’ll try to be who you want him to be, who you need him to be, no matter what it costs him,” Heero’s eyes flickered to the group in the corner. Natasha was there, sitting cross-legged on the floor, the silent boy with her. She leaned her shoulder on Bucky’s leg and he let her, the four speaking in soft Russian, laughing, and Steve didn't miss the way Duo’s hand slid in to Trowa’s. His name was Trowa, and the warmth in their gaze reminded Steve of sweaty Brooklyn alleys. “If you love him, you need to stop”

“It hurts,” Steve whispered, watching with lead in his chest.

“It gets worse,” Heero turned away, squaring his shoulders, eyes lost in the maze of city streets below them. Steve watch. Caught their easy camaraderie with his breath hitching, a stinging behind his eyes. The way tension seeped out of Bucky as Natasha leaned into him, the way he angled towards her. The way Russian got louder, laughter free and bright and--he clenched his jaw.

Steve stood next to Heero looking out at a city that was no longer his. New York was as foreign to him as the idea of Gundams, the places he loved erased by time and poverty, worn down like the sliver of soul still left in him. He didn’t belong here, not anymore, and his one tie to the life he’d wanted to live was gone, erased by electricity and cryo, and Steve. He had to let Bucky go. He had to let Bucky be who he was without Steve asking him to be who he couldn’t. Steve wet his lips.

Heero didn’t look at him. He stared silently at the sky, remembering bedroom eyes and soft skin under his cheek. Fingers in his hair and lips brushing against the shell of his ear. They stood there, silhouetted against the skyline, their private anguish rippling between them. And then Steve nodded, closing his eyes. His lashes were wet, skin on fire, stomach hollow. He swallowed.

“Does it ever stop?”

“No.”

 

 


End file.
